I quickly grabbed a mirror and whispered "Show me Isabella Swan".
Bella was lying in bed when Rose knocked on the door and waited for Bella to answer.
"What, Alice?" Bella hissed.
"It's me." Rosalie said, opening the door so Bella could see who it was. "Can I come in?"
"Of course. Come on in." Bella told her, a little awkwardly, she wasn't close to Rose.
Bella got up and sat on the bed, leaving some space so Rose could sit beside her.
"Do you mind talking to me for a few minutes? I didn't wake you or anything, did I?" Rose asked delicately.
"No, I was awake. Sure, we can talk."
"He so rarely leaves you alone. I figured I'd better make the best of this opportunity. Please don't think I'm horribly interfering. I'm sure I've hurt your feelings enough in the past, and I don't want to do that again."
"Don't worry about it, Rosalie. My feelings are great. What is it?"
Rosalie laughed, she sounded embarrassed.
"I'm going to try to tell you why I think you should stay human — why I would stay human if I were you."
"Oh."
"Did Edward ever tell you what led to this?"
"He said it was close to what happened to me that time in Port Angeles, only no one was there to save you."
"Is that really all he told you? He didn't tell you Violet was with me the night that happened?"
"No... Was there more?" she said quietly, she didn't know I was with Rose and she probably was thinking I was raped too."
"Yes. There was more."
Rose stared out the window, trying to calm herself.
"Would you like to hear my story, Bella? It doesn't have a happy ending — but which of ours does? I guess only Violet got a happy ending. If we had happy endings, we'd all be under gravestones now."
Bella nodded, she seemed a little frightened.
"I lived in a different world than you do, Bella. My human world was a much simpler place. It was nineteen thirty-three. I was eighteen, and I was beautiful. My life was perfect. My parents were thoroughly middle class. My biological mother had died giving birth to me, and after that my father met Evelyn, Violet's mother, and she raised me since then, like I was her own daughter."
Rosalie was looking at the clouds.
"My father had a stable job in a bank, something I realize now that he was smug about — he saw his prosperity as a reward for talent and hard work, rather than acknowledging the luck involved. I took it all for granted then; in my home, it was as if the Great Depression was only a troublesome rumor. Of course I saw the poor people, the ones who weren't as lucky. My father left me with the impression that they'd brought their troubles on themselves."
Bella listened attentively to her.
"It was my mother's job to keep our house — and myself, Violet and our two younger brothers — in spotless order. It was clear that I was both my father's first priority and his favorite. I didn't fully understand at the time, but I was always vaguely aware that my father wasn't satisfied with what he had, even if it was so much more than most. He wanted more. He had social aspirations — social climber, I suppose you could call him. My beauty was like a gift to him. He saw so much more potential in it than I did."
Rosalie didn't really talk about me.
"He wasn't satisfied, but I was. I was thrilled to be me, to be Rosalie Hale. Pleased that men's eyes watched me everywhere I went, from the year I turned twelve. Delighted that my girlfriends sighed with envy when they touched my hair. Happy that my mother was proud of me and that my father liked to buy me pretty dresses. I knew what I wanted out of life, and there didn't seem to be any way that I wouldn't get exactly what I wanted. I wanted to be loved, to be adored. I wanted to have a huge, flowery wedding, where everyone in town would watch me walk down the aisle on my father's arm and think I was the most beautiful thing they'd ever seen. Admiration was like air to me, Bella. I was silly and shallow, but I was content."
Rosalie smiled.
"Violet was never like that. She was also admired, she was always really beautiful, and always looked just like me, but only in appearence, she's just like her mother in personality, thank god. My father's influence had been such that I also wanted the material things of life. I wanted a big house with elegant furnishings that someone else would clean and a modern kitchen that someone else would cook in. As I said, shallow. Young and very shallow. And I didn't see any reason why I wouldn't get these things. There were a few things I wanted that were more meaningful. One thing in particular. My very closest friend was a girl named Vera. She married young, just seventeen. She married a man my parents would never have considered for me — a carpenter. A year later she had a son, a beautiful little boy with dimples and curly black hair. It was the first time I'd ever felt truly jealous of anyone else in my entire life."
Rosalie looked at Bella, with unfathomable eyes.
"It was a different time. I was the same age as you, but I was ready for it all. I yearned for my own little baby. I wanted my own house and a husband who would kiss me when he got home from work — just like Vera. Only I had a very different kind of house in mind..."
Rosalie was silent for a moment. She sighed and started speaking again.
"In Rochester, there was one royal family — the Kings, ironically enough. Royce King owned the bank my father worked at, and nearly every other really profitable business in town. That's how his son, Royce King the Second," Rosalie's mouth twitched at saying his name. "saw me the first time. He was going to take over at the bank, and so he began overseeing the different positions. Two days later, my mother conveniently forgot to send my father's lunch to work with him. I didn't notice Royce watching me particularly. Everyone watched me. But that night the first of the roses came. Every night of our courtship, he sent a bouquet of roses to me. Royce was handsome, too. He had lighter hair than I did, and pale blue eyes. After I've told him violets were my favorite, then those started showing up alongside the roses. My parents approved. This was everything they'd dreamed of. And Royce seemed to be everything I'd dreamed of. Everything I wanted, yet it was still no more than I expected. We were engaged before I'd known him for two months.
We didn't spend a great deal of time alone with each other. Royce told me he had many responsibilities at work, and, when we were together, he liked people to look at us, to see me on his arm. I liked that, too. There were lots of parties, dancing, and pretty dresses. When you were a King, every door was open for you, every red carpet rolled out to greet you.
It was going to be everything I'd ever wanted. I was completely happy. When I called at Vera's, I no longer felt jealous. I pictured my fair-haired children playing on the huge lawns of the Kings' estate, and I pitied her."
Rosalie broke off suddenly, afraid to tell Bella about the next part.
"I'd gone with Violet to Vera's that night. Her little Henry really was adorable, all smiles and dimples — he was just sitting up on his own. Vera walked us to the door as we were leaving, her baby in her arms and her husband at her side, his arm around her waist. He kissed her on the cheek when he thought I wasn't looking. That bothered me. When Royce kissed me, it wasn't quite the same — not so sweet somehow... I shoved that thought aside. Royce was my prince. Someday, I would be queen."
It looked like Rose got paler.
"It was dark in the streets, the lamps already on. We hadn't realized how late it was. It was cold, too. Very cold for late April. The wedding was only a week away. We were a few streets from our house when we heard them. A cluster of men under a broken streetlamp, laughing too loud. Drunk. I wished I'd called my father to escort me home, but the way was so short, it seemed silly. And then he called us. I hadn't realized the drunks were so well dressed. It was Royce and some of his friends. I'd never seen him drink before. He'd told me he didn't like champagne. I hadn't realized that he preferred something much stronger. He had a new friend — the friend of a friend, come up from Atlanta, he was the one who'd told me to take off my clothes."
Rose suddenly looked at Bella, she looked like she had forgotten Bella was there.
"I won't make you listen to the rest. They left me in the street, still laughing as they stumbled away. They thought I was dead. I waited in the road to die. Carlisle found me then. He'd smelled the blood, and come to investigate. He took me to his house and transformed me. He apologized each time I screamed."
Rosalie was thoughtful.
"You know, my record is almost as clean as Carlisle's. Better than Esme. A thousand times better than Edward. I've never tasted human blood. I did murder five humans. Everyone who was present that night."
"You still don't like me." Bella spoke.
"I'm sorry about that. But you have a choice, something I didn't get to have. You are much more mature than I was at eighteen. You're too young to know what you will want in ten years, fifteen years."
Bella sighed.
"Just think about it a little. Once it's done, it can't be undone. Esme's made do with us as substitutes, even more Violet... It's a lot to give up."
"Thanks, Rosalie. It's nice to understand... to know you better."
"I apologize for being such a monster. I'll try to behave myself from now on."
Then she left Edward's room and the next thing I knew she was coming towards my room! I put the mirror under the bed, covered myself with the blanket and pretended to be asleep.
"Good night, Little one." Rosalie whispered in my ear, giving me a tender kiss on the cheek. She never left my room again, just lay there with me while I slept.